Photography by Gota bide my time lines - writing fine bars four beats
to the drum come neat to the seat of the feet,
so sow what you reap, clock ticking and nicking
away and the telomeres stripping away at the years.
Spinning round on the sphere, relative to here,
pressure changing in the ear, sheer energy to hear
pitch on the y, pattern on the x, - but can you wriggle to the rhythm with the rest.Can you ride with the thumping in the crest
can you smile or you hide it in your chest
learn less about more or more about less - a free ride or is it all a testare you gonna thrive or be swinging from
your neck suffering and stressed
dismissing all the rest.
Isn't there some way I can be myself
cus I do not want to be draining my head out
breaking myself for these people on top of me
Where do you get off
Where is your heart gone
Where are you gonna be
When it's all over
Wiser and older.
Perpetual motion preserving pro-active production
promotion pedalo through the ocean
pro creating audio pastel paintings,
no pennies or pounds in the pot,
perverse to the parallel universe of pop-goes the easel
weeks spent easing the machine into breathing,
straining my meaning, leaning to leaving, ideas teeming, hit the ceiling.Sorry if i can't sit down, sorry if I'm messing around,
sorry if I can't go round in circles till i'm six feet underground
Thoughts break down, there's no sound, only cloud,
the world my oyster, but the pearl can't be found.
Isn't there some way I can be myself
cus I do not want to be draining my head out
breaking myself for these people on top of me
Where do you get off
Where is your heart gone
Where are you gonna be
When it's all over
Wiser and older.
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